


One Shot

by hashtagsalads



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bachelorette Party, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Hangover, Kissing in the Rain, Minor Bronnaery, One Shot, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashtagsalads/pseuds/hashtagsalads
Summary: Sandor Clegane has had a shit day. All he wants is to crawl into bed and spend his weekend alone in his apartment. Bronn has other ideas, and drags him out to a bar where a certain Sansa Stark happens to be having a last minute bachelorette party for Myranda Royce. Each notices the other, but is too intimidated to make the first move. Will a little liquid courage bring these two closer together? Only time will tell!





	One Shot

It had been a long day. The weather had been shit all week—and today was no exception—so the construction crew Sandor worked with was behind on their latest project and the foreman, Meryn Trant, was in a foul mood because of it. He’d had no problem sharing his ire, and he’d pushed them at a grueling pace all day, forcing them to stay late and on Friday of all days. So, when Bronn had suggested they all meet up for a beer at their favorite bar, he’d really wanted to tell his friend to fuck off and that his apartment was the only place he’d be going. But of course, Bronn was a persistent bastard and wore Sandor down and now here he was, sitting alone and waiting for everyone else to show up.

Instead of a beer, he ordered a whiskey, needing it after all he’d suffered at the hands of his boss. The amber liquid felt good sliding down his throat, and he finally started to feel some of the tension leaving his body. Still, he wanted to get this over with and wished his coworkers would fucking hurry up. It had only taken Sandor fifteen minutes to get cleaned up and then another ten to get to the bar, and he’d been the last to leave, so what in the seven hells was taking everyone else so long?

At that thought, he heard the chime of the bell above the door as it opened, and he looked, hoping it would be one of them having finally turned up. However, he was disappointed to see that it was some woman with her hood up, shaking the rain from her person and the bag she was carrying. Sandor was about to turn away from her when she slipped off her jacket and draped it over her arm, finally revealing what she looked like.

She was a vision. If Sandor were a more emotional man she’d have probably brought a tear to his eye with her beauty. As it was, his breath was caught in his throat as he tried and failed to tear his eyes away from the woman who’d just strolled into the bar and inadvertently rocked his world. Long copper hair and even longer legs, all attached to the loveliest face he’d ever seen with deep blue eyes and a perfect pout. It was killing him how attracted to her he was and he almost walked over to her that instant to strike up a conversation. Almost.

Reality set in a moment later when he caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging behind the bar out of the corner of his eye. The side of his face that was scarred was reflected back to him, and all the self-hate and insecurity that usually dominated his actions took hold once more. Instead of talking to what had to be the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, he pounded back the whiskey in his hand and slammed the glass down onto the bar, startling a couple of people near him. Sandor gave them a sneer before ordering another round, even though at this point he just wanted to leave. If he hadn’t promised Bronn that he’d go out tonight he’d already be in his truck on his way back to his lonely apartment to sulk.

He waited another five minutes and was just about to get the bartender’s attention so he could pay his tab when the man he’d been waiting for finally sauntered in and came to sit by him at the bar. “Took you long enough,” Sandor said, his tone clipped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bronn replied with a wave of his hand, “S’not my fault I’m late, I’ll have you know. That girl I took home last night was still at my apartment! Took forever to get her to leave. Guess she took a liking to ole Bronn here.” The self-satisfied smirk he wore made Sandor feel a pang of jealousy, and he resisted the urge to tell his only friend to fuck off.

“Must be a nice,” Sandor muttered instead, not bothering to hide his bitterness. He snuck a glance over at the redhead who’d taken a seat in a booth all by herself. His mind wandered to who she might be waiting for, and figured it was probably someone far handsomer than him. Another whiskey pounded back at the thought, and he waved his hand for the bartender to bring him one more. If he wasn’t careful he wouldn’t be able to drive himself back home, but he figured he could handle a third before he’d have to stop.

“What’s your problem? I get that Trant was a bit of a shitter today but you don’t need to take it out on me,” Bronn said, sliding his credit card across to the bartender to open up his tab.

Sandor sighed and ran a hand over his face, mumbling a quick apology and blaming his mood on the weather. He could never admit to Bronn that he was jealous of how easy it was for him to talk to women and how often they just fell at his feet. Sandor would never hear the end of it, and he really wasn’t in the mood for Bronn to be giving him a hard time. The more rational part of his mind knew that if he told the truth there was a chance that he could help, but he doubted that there was anything in the world that would ever make the woman he’d been eyeing up be even remotely interested in him. So instead, he kept his mouth shut and tried to enjoy his whiskey.

**~**

What an absolute nightmare. Of course on the night she’d planned Randa’s bachelorette party the weather would be awful! Sansa had been trying to organize this event for several months after her friend had unexpectedly asked her to be her maid of honor. It was only slightly awkward for Sansa, as Randa’s future husband, Harry, and she had dated briefly. But she’d accepted nonetheless because she’d been raised to be polite and couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to say no. Blessedly, he’d stayed far away from all the wedding planning and she’d had very little contact with him. The big day would be the only real hurdle, and she’d decided to cross that bridge when she got there. For now, she needed to focus on salvaging this party.

Initially she’d planned for them to go wine tasting at several different vineyards in the area, but none of them had any indoor seating and as such they were all closed until the weather improved. She’d also made reservations at an upscale restaurant for dinner afterwards, but when she suggested they all just enjoy a meal together Randa had refused. ‘I want to have fun! This will be my last night out as an unmarried woman and you were going to have us taste wine, eat, then be home in bed by 9:30? I knew I should have picked Mya…” Though she’d muttered the last part, Sansa had still heard and it stung at her pride. So, if Randa wanted to get drunk and make a fool of herself, she was more than happy to oblige.

And that is what led her to this bar, which had some of the cheapest and strongest drinks Sansa had ever had, especially when she’d first discovered it in her college days. She figured after everyone had gotten sufficiently drunk, they could all take a cab to a club not too far from there and dance the rest of the night away. Anything to make the bride happy after all.

Sansa ducked in through the door, its little bell tinkling merrily as she shook off the moisture that had accumulated on her coat and bag. Of course, she’d forgotten her umbrella back at work and had to walk the whole way from where she’d parked in the pouring rain. She was only grateful that her coat had a hood on it so that she’d been able to protect her hair and makeup, both carefully done so that she’d look pretty in all the pictures that would no doubt get uploaded to social media as the night progressed. Draping her jacket over her arm, she quickly made her way to a booth that would be big enough to accommodate them all and sat to wait patiently for everyone else to arrive.

As she finally took in her surroundings, she caught sight of what had to be the largest man she’d ever seen sitting hunched over on a barstool. Although he was clad in many layers to keep out the wind and rain, she could still tell he was incredibly muscular, and likely had an impressive physique underneath his clothes. His broad back was to her and his long, black mane covered most of his profile, so she couldn’t make out his facial features. Even so, she found herself attracted to this total stranger, imagining his muscular arms wrapping around her waist as he dipped down to kiss her mouth, then her neck, then lower… She shook the salacious thoughts from her head, thinking that it had been far too long since she’d been with a man, and decided she wanted very much to go over to him and strike up a conversation. That is, until he slammed down his glass and gave what must have been a fearsome look to his neighbors who flinched and promptly left the bar for a table. Apparently, he was in a bad mood, and Sansa didn’t much feel like having her head bitten off.

Still, it was such a waste, considering she hadn’t found herself this drawn to someone in quite some time, especially considering he wasn’t her usual type. In the past she’d always gone for the typical pretty boy, traditionally handsome, but not much else going for them. There was something about the ruggedness and raw masculinity this man exuded that sent a tingle straight down to the apex of her legs. Perhaps she could lighten his mood a little with a drink and some company. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Plus, she still didn’t have a date to Randa’s wedding in spite of putting a plus one on her invite, and she needed to find someone soon unless she wanted to drag her sister, Arya, with her. If things went well with this gentleman, perhaps she’d actually be able to save some face and not look totally pathetic to her ex.

Sansa was about to leave the booth and march over to him, when a wiry man with dark hair and a faint bit of stubble sat down on the stool next to him. She got the sense that they knew each other by the familiar way they started talking, and disappointedly sat back in her seat. There was no way she was brave enough to flirt with him with someone else present. Instead, she’d let it go, and if it was meant to be, they’d see each other again some other time.

Eventually, Margaery showed up, her long, elegant frame clad in a designer coat that had been expertly protected by her umbrella. Sansa waved her over and her Louboutins tapped on the floor as she found her way into the booth. After they’d greeted each other, Margaery glanced around the bar warily before saying, “So, this is an interesting choice. A little bit of a throwback to our wayward youth.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and said, “I know it’s not what you’re used to anymore, but I think you’ll manage. They still have two-for-one cocktails every happy hour, so I thought we could drink for cheap here before going to the club.”

“I suppose it does have that going for it. I don’t remember it being this dive-y though,” Margaery said, looking around once more before her eyes settled on the wiry man who had ruined her shot at striking up a conversation with the muscular one. Her doe brown eyes immediately turned predatory, and Sansa knew that she had every intention of sinking her perfectly manicured claws into him before the night was over. She turned back to Sansa with a smirk on her lips, saying, “At least there are still cute guys here.”

“Margie, no,” Sansa plead, clasping her hands together, “We’re out here to give Randa a nice send off into married life, not to hit on strange men. I don’t want you disappearing halfway through the night like you always do.” It occurred to Sansa that she was being slightly hypocritical but Margaery didn’t know that and she was going to keep it that way.

Margaery scoffed and shook her head at Sansa, saying, “Speak for yourself. I want to have fun, and fun for me means not going home alone at the end of the night.” She watched as Margie’s eyes slid once more over to the man who had an almost roguish appearance about him. He certainly looked the part of a heartbreaker, but Sansa knew that he’d meet his match in Margaery if she had her way.

“This night is about Randa. Just try to focus on that, okay? I’ll even make it easier for you,” Sansa said, pulling her bag over to her and fishing out one of the many sashes she had stored away in there. All but one was bright pink and emblazoned with rhinestones that said the word ‘Bridesmaid’ on them. The one Randa would wear was white and had rhinestones spelling out the word ‘Bride.’ It had been expensive to have them made on such short notice, but Sansa was nothing if not diligent, and she wanted to give her friend the night she’d asked for.

“I think you mean you’ll make it easier for me to get his attention,” Margaery said, inspecting the sash with a raised eyebrow, “Guys love to hit on girls at a bachelorette party.”

Sansa realized that must be true, because she could see that he was now glancing over in their direction, his eyes fixed on Margaery as a grin stole over his features. She sighed as she realized this was likely going to be a long night indeed.

**~**

Sandor really should have stopped after his third whiskey. He’d certainly had every intention to do so, but then a fourth had sounded really good, and his brain was just fuzzy enough to convince him that ordering one would be a great idea. It had definitely tasted good, along with his fifth, sixth, and finally seventh. At that point Bronn convinced him to switch to beer, but it didn’t matter because Sandor was well and truly drunk and having the most fun he’d ever had with his crew.

The rest of the men had finally shown up, and each was well on their way to getting just as drunk as he was. Bronn was the only one who seemed to have his head about him, probably because he’d been eyeing up the pretty brunette who’d gone to sit with his redhead, still the most gorgeous woman there by far. In his drunken state, he was almost offended that Bronn hadn’t noticed her instead, but a teeny tiny part of him knew that he should really be grateful. If Bronn _had_ been interested in her it would have been game over for Sandor.

Not that he had much game to begin with, but still.

It seemed the drunker he got, the bolder he became, allowing himself to stare at her openly instead of sneaking glances at her as he had before. Even though she was with a group of girlfriends (for a bachelorette party, his mind registered as he took in their little sashes) he still found himself fighting the urge to go over and tell her how fucking beautiful she was. So what if he made a fool of himself in front of all those other women? She deserved to know if she didn’t already. And he deserved to be the one to tell her, especially after all the shit he’d been through.

“You really should just go talk to her,” Bronn said close to his ear, startling him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sandor half-slurred, turning to glare at the shorter man.

Bronn guffawed and raised his brows at Sandor, saying, “Oh yeah, like you haven’t been staring at that ginger girl all night long. The only way you’d be more obvious is if you had a sign plastered to your forehead that says ‘Has a thing for redheads.’”

“Not redheads. _That_ redhead,” Sandor grunted out a correction, adding, “No point in hitting on her anyway. I don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s ask the guys, shall we?” Bronn said, and with Sandor’s reflexes being dulled by all the liquor, he wasn’t quick enough to stop his friend as he stood in the middle of their group and announced, “Does everyone here think Sandor should take a chance and go ask out that gorgeous slip of a ginger over there?” He pointed his finger at her, and Sandor tried to swat his hand down so she wouldn’t notice.

Still, everyone caught on and took a look in her direction, before they all shouted words of agreement and encouragement. Each of them was red in the face, their eyes glazed over and he could tell that they probably would have agreed to anything with how far in the bag they were. Yet their words were having an effect on him in spite of himself, and he found he was actually considering going over to her once again. However, his bravery was short lived when he saw all of the women in her group looking over at them, their faces a mixture of annoyance and disgust.

Sandor deflated instantly and said, “I can’t go over there with all her friends around her. They’ll just laugh!”

“Well, it looks like you’re in luck and out of excuses,” Bronn said, grinning from ear to ear. He gestured and Sandor’s eyes drifted over to where she and the brunette had extricated themselves from the crowd of women and made their way to the bar. “I’ll distract her friend, then you go over and show her what you’re made of!” And before Sandor could protest, he was off, walking his signature swagger over to a woman who looked far more high-maintenance than he could ever be interested in. By the way her eyes lit up when she greeted him, he could tell that Bronn would definitely not be going home alone that night. It took very little time, and then the two of them were out the door, leaving his beauty all on her lonesome.

This was it, his one shot at making a good impression on the woman who could be his future wife. With false bravery, he walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned to look at him, he was struck dumb by how lovely she was up close. He’d only seen her from far away, and he hadn’t been able to notice her creamy skin and soft features, especially just how lovely her mouth was, which was parted slightly. As he allowed his gaze to roam her face, he eventually settled on her blue eyes which stared up at him expectantly, and he realized he needed to say something quick unless he wanted her to think he was an idiot.

When was the last time he’d tried to flirt with a woman? Probably never, truth be told. Gods, what was he supposed to say? Time seemed to grind to a halt, and he just wanted to say _something_ so she wouldn’t leave. Without thinking, he finally blurted out, “I think I must have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?”

What a fucking joke. A pick-up line was the best he could do? He might as well pack it in now.

Of course, she laughed, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she seemed to giggle uncontrollably at his pathetic attempt to get her attention. He turned to leave, when she shouted, “Wait!” after him, her voice as lovely as a song.

**~**

Sansa had made a pact with herself before she’d even gotten to the bar that night that she was not going to have more than one shot so she could keep a clear head and make sure everyone had a good time and no one got lost downtown. Of course, Sansa had already broken that pact. It had started innocently enough, with Randa begging her to do another shot with her. “It’s my party and I’m the bride so you have to!” she’d crowed, using that to manipulate Sansa into taking another drink. It had worked, obviously, but that was her last one, she swore. That is, until she had the next one with Margaery who whined because she hadn’t been out with Sansa in ages and didn’t she remember how much fun they had in college? Then, it was all downhill from there.

Sansa was starting to feel really good, especially because she’d noticed that the big guy she’d been checking out before was now blatantly staring at her. She’d finally gotten a look at his face, and at first she’d been shocked by the damage she saw there. The skin on the left side was mottled and puckered, shiny and pink where the other side was smooth and tan. He didn’t have an eyebrow on the ruined side of his face either, though you could hardly tell with the way he constantly seemed to smooth his hair over his scars to hide them. Still, they did nothing to lessen her attraction to him, and she was beginning to get the feeling he was interested her as well based on the way he watched her, hardly taking his eyes off her all night.

Margaery had also noticed, it seemed, because at one point she’d leaned over and whispered into Sansa’s ear, “Is that creep bothering you with all his staring? I can go over there and tell him to cut it out if you want. Gods know you won’t.”

Sansa gasped and whispered back, “He’s not a creep! He’s hot. And I’m going to get him to be my date to Randa’s wedding before the night is over.” She hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but the liquor had loosened her tongue substantially and she had apparently lost the ability to keep her mouth shut.

“Well, you won’t if you spend all night sitting over here,” Margaery hissed in response, giving her a pointed look.

Suddenly the group of men surrounding him erupted into loud cheers and yells of encouragement, though Sansa had no idea why. It was enough to startle everyone at the bachelorette party into silence, and she noticed that Randa and the rest of the entourage were giving his group dirty looks. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them for being so rude, instead, looking to Randa when she turned to Sansa and said with a thick tongue, “I’m tired of those weirdos staring at us! Let’s go to the club Sansaaaaaa” The way she whined her name made her regret agreeing to this whole charade, and she was very close to telling her off and stalking over to the incredibly sexy man who was watching her once more.

Before she could say anything, however, Margaery piped up, cheerily saying, “Let’s have one more round before we go! I’ll buy! Come on, Sansa, you can help me carry the drinks.” Margie grabbed her hand and hauled her out of the booth, dragging them both up to the bar.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked, trying to keep her head from spinning at all the sudden movements.

“I’m helping you accomplish your goal,” she purred, no longer looking at Sansa. Instead, Margaery was focused on the man stalking towards them.

He reached for Margaery’s hand, giving it a kiss and saying, “I’m Bronn. Couldn’t help but notice your red-bottoms, and I have to say, I love a woman with expensive taste. And you are?”

“My, you’ve got a good eye,” she said, her smile growing, “I’m Margaery. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bronn. Why don’t we satisfy some of my more lavish urges and share a bottle of Dornish red back at my place?” She knew what she was doing, and it stunned Sansa how easily she conversed with men. If only it were that simple for her.

“I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my evening. Shall we?” Bronn replied smoothly, offering his arm to Margaery who took it gladly. She gave Sansa a cat-like grin before the two of them sauntered out the door already looking thick as thieves.

She glanced back at her party and if they noticed, they didn’t seem to care that Margie was leaving. However, that did mean that she would have to pay for the round of shots that she was supposed to have been getting everyone. With a sigh, she turned and tried to get the bartender’s attention, but was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.

Turning quickly—almost too quickly, as her head spun once more—she saw that it was none other than the man she’d been checking out all evening. Her heart started hammering in her chest as she stared up at him, his face even more handsome up close, even with the scars. His eyes were a steel grey, and even though they were glazed over, she could still see an intense look of raw lust within them. Her cheeks heated up as he continued to appraise her for a while, until he finally locked eyes with her and seemed to realize he needed to say something.

She expected an introduction, or something normal, but what popped out of his mouth instead surprised her. He seemed to search for the right words for a moment, before saying the cheesiest pick-up line Sansa had ever heard: “I think I must have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?”

Without meaning to, she burst into a fit of giggles, having never expected to be hit on with a pick-up line. She almost wondered if he was just teasing her, until she saw the hurt look cross his features as he turned to walk away. “Wait!” she cried out, trying to reach for him and tripping over herself in the process.

He turned just in time to catch her, and for a moment she was breathless as he held her up against him in his strong arms. He was as hard as a rock, just as muscular as she had imagined, and she fought the urge to start running her hands up and down his chest. Instead, she righted herself, and said, “I’m sorry for laughing. I just didn’t think anyone used lines like that anymore.”

The man still seemed defensive as, much to her dismay, he released her and said, “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a fucking genius when it comes to flirting with women, so sue me.” There was an undertone of bitterness in his voice, and for a moment she felt sad for him. She realized he must not have a lot of experience and she had probably killed his confidence by laughing at him.

“Well, good thing you don’t need to be a genius to flirt with me, then,” Sansa replied with what seemed like a witty comeback to her fuzzy mind, trying to make him feel better, “All you need to do is be yourself.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause you’ll fall into bed with just anyone, is that it?” he asked with a sneer. Normally she’d be offended, but she could tell he had a chip on his shoulder that would probably take a lot of work to remove.

Side-stepping his attempt to hurt her, she boldly said, “Not anyone. Just you.” Sansa truly didn’t know what had possessed her to blurt that out other than the liquor, but she was starting to actually believe what she’d said. She wasn’t normally the type of person to sleep with someone after just meeting them, but the heat she felt between them was incredible and she wanted to allow herself to explore these new feelings. His one eyebrow was raised to her and he looked shocked. Before she could stop herself, she added, “Do you want to get out of here?”

He nodded and reached out to take her hand, leading her out of the bar and into the pouring rain.

**~**

They did not make it very far. After a cursory introduction where he’d learned her name was Sansa, she’d dragged him into the alleyway and pulled him down for a hungry kiss. His head was swimming and he vaguely remembered that she’d come in with a coat that it appeared she had forgotten in her haste to be with him. What a strange feeling, being wanted instead of being the only person doing the wanting. It felt almost as good as her mouth on his, but not quite. Nothing could compare to the heat of her kisses as her tongue darted into his mouth and clashed with his own. Her body, now soaked to the bone, was pressed hard against his, and he ran his hands down her back to cup her ass, giving it a squeeze. When she groaned into his mouth, he could feel his cock grow flush with blood and he knew that if he didn’t do something about it soon, he’d probably explode.

Pulling away, he fought to catch his breath as he stared down at her face, dimly lit by the street light. Sandor could just make out that her make-up was ruined, as well as her hair, but that didn’t matter. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, especially with her lips swollen from their make-out session. Still, she did look a little ridiculous, standing there in her bright pink sash which was now clinging to her with the rest of her clothes. If they didn’t get inside soon, she’d probably catch a cold. “Do you want to go someplace a little drier?” he asked with a slight chuckle, no longer wanting to feel the rain drumming on his head and back.

She nodded, seeming to finally realize just how wet she was, hopefully in more ways than one. He watched as she peeled herself away from the wall and realized that he was definitely in no shape to drive. Sandor wondered if she would be able to and asked her, only to find that she must have been as drunk as he was based on her emphatic head shaking, followed by her slightly stumbling. Through his own drunken haze it registered that she may only be doing this because she wasn’t sober, and where it would normally sting to think that he found the pain delightfully numbed by his inebriation.

After a quick discussion, it was decided that one of them should get a cab, which wound up being Sandor due to the fact that he was actually in possession of his phone. As he made the call, Sansa rushed back into the bar to gather her belongings, and he wondered for a moment if she’d ditch him. However, she came back out soon enough, this time with her coat on, though it would do little good now that she’d already gotten wet. He imagined all the different ways he’d help her dry off and get warm while they stood in entryway of the bar waiting for their taxi to arrive. That is, if she didn’t wind up changing her mind now that they were no longer kissing. His fears were briefly assuaged when she reached out and tentatively gripped his large hand with her small one. It was a sweet gesture, and he gave her hand a squeeze as he held it back.

It seemed like it took ages for their ride to arrive, although it had likely been a reasonable amount of time, and Sandor quickly ushered Sansa into the cab before going around to the other side to slide in beside her. He gave the driver his address before settling back in and wrapping his arm around Sansa’s shoulders, pulling her in close. When she didn’t recoil, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling softly, never having imagined in his life being able to do this with a woman so beautiful.

This was really shaping up to be one of the best nights of his life.

**~**

When he took her hand, she could feel heat course through her as his calloused fingertips made contact with her own, more delicate flesh. His hand was also much larger than hers, practically engulfing her much smaller appendage. Yet even with his size he was incredibly gentle with her, not squeezing her too tightly even though he was clearly as drunk as she was. It made her heart swell as images of him cradling her softly while they made love filled her mind and she was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him.

Even though it was still pouring rain, she knew she couldn’t wait until they’d made it to whatever destination they were headed to. After quickly introducing herself and learning his name was Sandor, she pulled him into the nearest private space—an alleyway of all places, how scandalous indeed—before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in to devour him. The brick of the building was uncomfortable against her back, though she hardly noticed as his lips crashed down onto hers, and his strong arms once more found their way around her waist, almost lifting her off the ground.

The feel of his mouth pressed hard against her own ignited a flame deep within her, and she quickly deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue against his. Even with the liquor in his system, he seemed to know what he was doing, expertly moving his tongue back against hers with equal enthusiasm. As she wondered how else he might apply his oral skills, he ran his hands down to her backside and gave it a squeeze, causing her to moan without meaning to. At that moment, Sansa became acutely aware of how many clothes were separating them, and how little she wished to be wearing them any longer. She also realized just how soaked she was by the rain, and finally remembered that she’d abandoned her belongings back with Randa’s party.

At that same moment, he broke their kiss, his breath heavy against her face as he seemed to stare down at her with wonder. She could hardly make out his features as he was backlit by a nearby streetlight, but Sansa could tell by the way he watched her that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. It was enough to make her want to drag him back down for more, but before she could he spoke, asking in his deep baritone voice which sent shivers down her spine, “Do you want to go someplace a little drier?” He half-laughed as he said it, and she realized she must look like a drowned rat right about now with the way her hair and clothes were clinging to her. Though she knew she ought to be mortified, she found that the alcohol she’d consumed made her care far less than she should about the state of her appearance.

Instead, she nodded and stood up straight, only to find her world spinning once more when she shook her head at his asking if she would be able to drive them to his apartment. It shook her off balance, and she put her hand against the wall to steady herself, hoping he wouldn’t think she was too much of a lush. At the moment her head was reeling and she was starting to feel the effects of the cool rain on her skin, her body overtaken with shivers in spite of the warmth between her legs.

Wanting to go back inside so she could grab her coat and bag which she’d so carelessly forgotten, she asked Sandor to call them a cab while she ran into the bar. Upon entering, she found her friends had left, and her things were sitting unattended in the booth that they had all occupied. Angrily, Sansa thought that they could have at least given them to the bartender, as she whipped off the stupid sash she was wearing and tossed it onto the seat. She snatched up her coat and threw it on, thankful for the warmth it provided her as she checked her purse to make sure nothing was missing.

After finding her wallet and other items intact, she pulled out her phone and saw several unread messages from Randa, each more heated than the one before it:

_Randa: Sansa u better not have left w/ that ugly guy!_

_Randa: If u dont come back soon I am going 2 be pissed!!!!!!!_

_Randa: I can’t believe u! U have 5 seconds 2 show up b4 I kick you out of my wedding!!!!!_

_Randa: 5…_

_Randa: 4…_

_Randa: 3…_

_Randa: 2…_

_Randa: 1…_

_Randa: Fine. Ur no longer my maid of honor. Mya is going to take ur place, like she should have been all along and ull just be a bridesmaid. Bet ur sorry now!!!!!_

Sansa couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up from within her at Randa’s increasing anger, and the fact that she had actually been released from her duties as maid of honor. And all because she’d chosen her own happiness for once instead of thinking of other people like she always did. Admittedly, it hadn’t been the best timing, but after everything Sansa had done for Randa—including being at her beck and call for the last few months—she’d thought her friend could have at least cut her some slack. Especially since she was marrying her ex.

Struggling through her drunken haze, Sansa tried to formulate the best response she could to Randa’s digital tirade. However, there weren’t any words that could properly convey how little she cared that she had been demoted. Not wanting to keep Sandor waiting, she finally settled on sending a thumbs up emoji in lieu of any actual statement. It felt straight to the point, and she smiled gleefully to herself as she imagined Randa’s outraged squeal when she saw it.

As she made her way back to Sandor, she caught sight of his face as he saw her coming, and immediately noticed the relief that flashed across it. It seemed he hadn’t thought she was going to come back, and it broke her heart that he must be more used to rejection than acceptance. Even though she didn’t know him very well, she could tell there was a gentleness inside that gruff exterior and it pained her to think how many people missed it because of their prejudices towards his appearance. Well, their loss was her gain, she decided, as she reached out and grasped his hand, wanting to show him he had nothing to worry about with her. He squeezed her hand in response, and she felt her face heat up as her heart fluttered.

It was only when the taxi arrived and after he’d helped her in that she started wondering exactly where this evening was going. She’d been feeling confident when she’d asked him if he’d wanted to get out of there, and had been so sure that she wanted to go to bed with him when they’d been kissing in the alley. But now that things were actually getting serious she was nervous. He’d casually tossed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him, which simultaneously sent a delightful shiver up her spine and created not-so-delightful knots in her stomach. She could tell he was drunk in the way he’d squeezed her shoulders, showing his impressive strength, likely without having meant to. Though she got the impression he would listen if she said no, she was starting to realize that she didn’t have any real proof of that. And what if he didn’t respect her wishes? How would she get out of a situation like that when he could so obviously overpower her?

Her head was starting to spin, and she realized she needed to figure something out before things got too out of control. It seemed a little late now, but she had to say something, right?

**~**

When he’d first given his address to the cabbie, it had seemed like an extraordinarily good idea to bring her to his place. After all, he knew the layout, he’d be less likely to break anything, and he’d be in his comfort zone so he’d be relaxed. Yes, to his drunken mind, it had seemed absolutely perfect. Nothing could go wrong. That is, until he remembered where he lived and what exactly his apartment looked like. In traditional bachelor fashion, he hadn’t tidied up his apartment in probably a month, and he’d certainly never done a deep clean in all the time he’d lived there. It wasn’t dirty, of course, but it was messy and she likely wouldn’t be too impressed by that. Nor would she be impressed by the location, which was by all accounts a very undesirable part of town to live in.

In truth, he could feel her unease through the arm that was draped around her shoulder, her body getting tense the closer they got to his building. She must have recognized the neighborhood and been afraid for her safety, because her hands were clutched around the handles of her bag, her knuckles white. Gods, what a colossal mistake he’d made in thinking he should bring her back to his. However, it was now far too late to tell the cab driver to take them elsewhere, so he remained silent, deciding to apologize only if she said something. He didn’t really want to add to his humiliation by admitting that he knew he’d fucked up.

Eventually they arrived at his place, and after he paid the driver he led her up the stairs to his apartment. She was silent and stone-faced, far from the passionate woman he’d swept into his arms and kissed in the alleyway. He wondered if she really was that turned off by his residence, and it stung to think that of all the things that would wind up pushing her away, it would be his apartment. Of course, he’d pay for her ride back home if she really wanted to leave now, but not without telling her off for being so judgmental.

Once they got to his front door, he sighed and turned to her, saying with a warning in his voice, “Now, I wasn’t expecting company tonight, so sorry if the place isn’t exactly in order.”

Sandor watched her, waiting for her to say she wanted to go, but she only nodded, and followed him inside as he swung the door open to his modest apartment. It was a one bedroom, small with the kitchen immediately to the left of his door and the living room off to the right. The bedroom was in the back, and the bathroom was right beside it. Truth be told, there was very little to see as he had minimal amounts of furniture, so he gave the tour in one sentence and a wave of his arm. She took in everything, her face blank, and again he wondered what she was thinking. He shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before saying, “Uh, you can wait on the couch while I clean up if you want.”

That seemed to break her out of her trance, and finally, she spoke, saying a soft, ‘okay’ before heading over to his sofa and sitting down on it. She removed her coat and dropped it to the floor, her bag going down along with it, while she continued to look at everything in her view. He bustled around, then, picking up stray dishes and putting them into his dishwasher, eventually moving on to the clothes he’d carelessly thrown around his living space. As he gathered them up, he realized she’d probably need something dry to wear, and went into his bedroom to find her anything that might fit. He was a large man, and she was, as Bronn had described her earlier, a slip of a girl, so whatever he had she’d likely be swimming in. Still, he needed to try, at least so she wouldn’t catch a cold.

As soon as he found something he thought was acceptable, he made his way back out to his living room only to stop dead in his bedroom door at the sight that greeted him: Sansa, lying on her side on the couch clad only in her underwear, her mouth slightly parted and her eyes closed, clearly fast asleep, soft snores emanating from her body.

**~**

When she’d told Sandor she wanted to leave with him, it had seemed like an excellent idea. It had been a long time since she’d wanted to be with a man, and even longer since she’d actually slept with one. So, from the moment he’d tried to hit on her with that cheesy pick-up line, it had seemed like a no-brainer that they’d fall into bed together. Yes, to her drunken mind it had seemed like the perfect plan. Nothing could go wrong. That is, until she realized she was starting to have reservations about sleeping with a total stranger. What did she actually know about him? Basically nothing besides his name and the fact that he had questionable taste in neighborhoods, she noted as they sped into the seedier part of town.

Of course, it was too late to back out now. She was getting the sense that they were getting closer to their destination with the way that Sandor was shifting restlessly beside her. Sansa noticed that he seemed suddenly uncomfortable, but didn’t spare much thought to it, as she had bigger things to worry about at the moment. How would he take it when she told him she’d actually rather not have sex? Would he be mad and throw her out to fend for herself? It wasn’t like she didn’t have money for cab fare home, but the idea of waiting on the street this late at night certainly made her uneasy.

Soon, they stopped in front of a shoddy looking apartment building, and Sansa knew that they must be where Sandor lived. He scooped some bills out of his wallet and paid the driver, then got out and offered to help her out as well. It was a sweet gesture, probably the last he’d show her now that she was planning on telling him they couldn’t have sex. She probably should say something now, while she still had a way out, but the cab drove away as soon as Sandor shut the door behind her, and she knew she’d have to follow him inside instead.

The building was old and clearly in need of repair, a stark contrast to her own, much nicer high rise that was located in the middle of downtown. In truth, she’d never actually been somewhere that was so obviously low-class and she felt bad that he had to live in such squalor. Her mind became occupied as it went off thinking of different ways she could elevate his situation, perhaps convincing him to move in with her. Sansa was eventually shaken from her silly thoughts when they finally reached his apartment door.

Sandor had stopped and turned to her, his expression guarded as he said, “Now, I wasn’t expecting company tonight, so sorry if the place isn’t exactly in order.”

Sansa nodded, having expected nothing less when she saw where he lived and also with what she knew about bachelors. Before her older brother, Robb, had settled down his place had always been an absolute disaster, with clothes strewn about and a sink full of dirty dishes. She rarely visited him because of it, and had often joined in with their mother who scolded him about it at every holiday get-together. However, when she went into Sandor’s she was delightfully surprised to find it was only half as messy as Robb had kept his apartment. There were some dishes on the coffee table and some clothes on the floor, but there were no strange smells and she was certain there was no mold either.

He was still watching her, his face not hiding his discomfort as she shuffled his feet for a moment before saying, “Uh, you can wait on the couch while I clean up if you want.” She wondered for a moment why he was acting so awkward until she realized she hadn’t spoken a word in quite a while, her nerves having tied her tongue considerably.

“Okay,” Sansa said softly, making her way over to his couch. His apartment was quite small, and once again she felt bad that this was his living situation. Without thinking, she took off her coat and dropped it on the floor along with her bag, plopping down on his sofa. Sandor moved around her, picking up all the clutter while she watched him, fascinated at the domesticity of it all. That is, until she remembered that she needed to figure out a way to gently tell him she thought they shouldn’t have sex.

Sansa suddenly felt exhausted by everything and wanted nothing more than to lie down and just take a quick nap. Yes, that would help her think more clearly.

Sandor disappeared into his bedroom and Sansa took the opportunity to try to lie down and sneak in a little shut-eye. It was only then that she remembered the state of her clothes, and, not wanting to catch a cold, she decided to remove them. It was only temporary, of course. As soon as her nap was over she would get dressed and he would never be any the wiser.

She quickly peeled off her top and her jeans, throwing them off to the side, before lying back down on the couch. It felt so soft and comfortable that she had to try to concentrate on not falling asleep. She would be completely mortified if Sandor came out and found her only wearing her underwear, so under no circumstances could she allow herself to pass out.

**~**

Sandor immediately and regretfully pulled his eyes away from her. As much as he wanted to admire the soft curves of her body and the swell of her breasts pushing out of her lacy little bra, he knew he hadn’t actually been given permission to see her in this state. So, out of respect, he didn’t allow himself to ogle her, and instead tried to figure out why she was suddenly scantily clad and sleeping on his sofa. The only reasonable explanation that he could come up with was that she had planned to seduce him and then fell asleep while he had been in his bedroom. How could he have been so boneheaded as to think that she’d want something to wear when she had actually been wanting to take her clothes off?

Well, all that was left to do now was to make Sansa comfortable. His landlord rarely had the heat cranked up to acceptable levels in order to save money, so his apartment was much colder than it ought to be. Of course, Sandor had enough mass that he wasn’t bothered by it, but she was small, almost like a little bird, and probably would be freezing if he didn’t get her a blanket.

Sandor grabbed an extra one out of his closet and made his way over to the couch to put it on her, not remembering that she’d dropped her things on the floor. As soon as he got near, he stepped down and heard a sharp crunching noise from underneath his foot. Groaning, he wondered what he could have possibly destroyed of hers, and draped the blanket over her before bending down to investigate. Her coat, which was sodden and needed to be hung up, had been where he’d stepped, and he surmised that whatever it was had been inside its pockets. After fishing around for a moment, he pulled out her phone, which now sported several very large cracks in its screen.

He had to grit his teeth to stop himself from releasing a stream of very loud curses, not wanting to wake Sansa from her slumber. How could he possibly make this up to her? As he held the broken cellphone in his hand, his mind drifted to his savings, and how he’d probably have to dip into it in order to buy her another one. He really didn’t want to, as he’d been saving up to buy a house and having to shell out a thousand bucks on a phone would be a huge setback for him. But that didn’t matter, because he needed to make the situation right, since he was the one who broke it.

Sandor’s eyes drifted from her phone to her face, still just as lovely as the first time he’d seen it. Sansa looked so peaceful sleeping there, and he felt the anxiety about having to replace her cell melt away. There was just something about her that made him feel like he’d go to the ends of the planet to make her smile. He was almost scared at how smitten he was with this woman already, and decided that he was much drunker than he’d realized.

Since she’d already taken them off, Sandor picked up her clothes and coat and hung them up in his bathroom to give them a chance to dry. Afterwards, with nothing else to be done for the evening, he went to bed. It would be much easier to take care of everything else in the morning, and he really needed a chance to sleep off all the whiskey he’d consumed, especially since it was so clearly clouding his judgement.

**~**

Sansa woke with a start, not aware of where exactly she was, or how she’d gotten there. The only thing she knew for sure was that her head was pounding and her stomach did not agree with the choices she’d made the night before. Wherever she was, it was brighter than she thought should be allowed, and she pulled the blanket that covered her over her eyes to shield her from the intruding rays of the sun. It was only then that she realized the blanket, which had been so kindly provided to her by some stranger, was the only thing that protected her modesty. If not for the covers, she’d be completely exposed in only her underclothes.

Her face flushed as images from the night before finally started flashing in front of her eyes. The stranger, who she now remembered was Sandor, had taken her back to his apartment after making out with her in an alleyway. She’d completely abandoned the party she’d been hosting—her mother would be scandalized—and had also been demoted from maid of honor to bridesmaid. And now she was waking up barely clothed in a stranger’s apartment, with no idea what exactly had possessed her to remove them in the first place. Did they have sex? Did she at least make sure he used protection? But if they had done it, she’d be in his bed with him, not out here on the couch, right?

Sansa groaned audibly as she pressed her mind, willing it to provide her with memories of how her night had ended. It was only when she heard a throat clear that she realized she wasn’t actually alone. Sitting up like a shot, she saw Sandor on a stool at his kitchen island, watching her over his cup of coffee with a nervous expression. The way he averted his eyes from her immediately made her wonder if he regretted bringing her home, but then Sansa realized in her haste to sit up she’d forgotten to keep herself covered, and her bra-clad chest was exposed to him.

She scrambled to pull the blanket up to her chest, her face still beet red, as she said awkwardly, “Hi, Sandor. I seem to have misplaced my clothes. Do you happen to know where they are?” Without anything to cover her, she’d resorted to using courtesy as an armor to shield herself from the embarrassment of being almost naked in front of him. Even if he was still incredibly attractive to her, his grey eyes smoldering as he turned his gaze back towards her. She almost wanted to kiss him again, but didn’t think it would be appropriate at this particular time.

He rose from his stool then and disappeared into his bathroom before reappearing with her clothes in his hands. “I hung them up to dry last night after you took them off,” he offered by way of explanation.

“And did I take them off in front of you or…?” Sansa asked, watching him to see how he reacted. She felt bad that she didn’t remember, but she needed some answers and was too embarrassed to ask directly.

“You took them off while I was in the bedroom. Not sure why exactly because you were asleep by the time I came back out,” Sandor told her, handing over her clothes so that she could get dressed.

She noted that he behaved like a perfect gentleman, turning his back so she could put them on, making sure to avert his gaze until she was decent. “So I got undressed alone and then passed out? How classy of me,” Sansa remarked dryly, following up with, “So we didn’t…?”

“Uh, no, we did not,” Sandor said with a shrug. She wasn’t sure how to read him now that they were both sober in the light of day. Did he seem disappointed that they hadn’t, or relieved? How did she feel about the situation? Sansa vaguely remembered having been apprehensive when they’d been in the cab, and now that she was sober she knew it probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. Still, looking at him in the light of day, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret herself, his impressive musculature on full display. She had a feeling he’d be an excellent lover, and found herself sad that she hadn’t experienced it.

“Oh, I see,” she said for lack of a better response.

Before she could think of something more to say, he sighed and said, “There’s something else, too. Your coat was on the floor when I put a blanket on you and I accidentally stepped on your phone.”

Sandor wouldn’t look at her, and she wondered just how badly it was damaged. However, she didn’t have to wonder long, as he picked her cellphone up off the counter and handed it to her. She saw all the cracks, and knew she’d need to get it replaced immediately. It was too bad. Sansa had been looking forward to seeing Randa’s outraged response to the text she’d sent last night.

As she examined it, he spoke up, saying, “I’m so sorry. It was an accident, I swear. And I’ll pay to have it replaced, I promise. I don’t know how else I can make it up to you.”

Truth be told, Sansa was actually due for an upgrade. She’d been thinking about it, but with all the wedding stuff she’d been doing for Randa, she’d put it on the back burner. Still, Sandor didn’t need to know that. “Actually, there’s something else you can for me instead of buying me a new phone.”

“Oh?” he asked, intrigued and looking hopeful.

“You can be my wedding date,” Sansa said with a grin.

“Oh,” Sandor repeated, seeming to deflate.

“Unless you don’t want to see me again,” she said, her grin faltering as she started to put on her coat and make a hasty exit. This had turned awkward quickly.

“No! It’s not that,” he said with a wave of his hands, “I just don’t really do fancy or weddings.”

Sansa laughed at the idea that Randa would be having a fancy wedding, and turned to him, saying, “I can promise you, the last thing this wedding will be is fancy. Please come. It’ll be fun, I swear.”

Sandor’s face broke out into a shy smile as he asked, “You sure? We literally just met last night.”

“I’m sure,” she said with a smile, not exactly knowing why. There was just something about him that had her hooked. “We can get to know each other beforehand, of course. The wedding is a few weeks away after all. For now, let’s go to brunch, shall we? I’m starving and there’s a great place near the bar where we left our cars.”

He looked surprised for a moment before he grabbed his keys and followed her out the door, down the stairs, and into the bright sunshine of the early afternoon.

**~**

Sandor could not stop tugging at the tight collar of the shirt under his suit jacket. There was a reason he was in construction and had never gone for a traditional nine to five office job, and a big part of that was the fact that he did not do suits and ties. But a wedding called for formal attire, and he didn’t want to disappoint Sansa by showing up looking like a total slob. So, he’d gone out with Bronn, and bought a suit, which would probably only get used this one time. Still, it was worth it when he saw the look on Sansa’s face, hungry and hot, clearly turned on by him in formalwear.

Truth be told, he was still getting used to how much she wanted him, having never been in a relationship like this before. Most of the women he’d dated had tolerated his appearance at best, only wanting him to fuck them from behind so they didn’t have to look at him. But with Sansa, it was completely different. She looked him in the face when they made love, kissing him and stroking his scars, never once shying away from them. And she wasn’t embarrassed to be seen in public with him either, another thing that was totally different from his past experiences. It almost seemed like she was proud to have him on her arm, though he didn’t know why.

That was what he tried to focus on, as he sat in an uncomfortably tiny chair at a table surrounded by people he’d never met before. The minute he’d joined them after the ceremony, they’d all shifted uncomfortably, clearly wishing he’d been seated elsewhere. None of them made an effort to chat with him, instead talking to one another and pointedly ignoring him. Not that he minded of course. Based on what he overheard, their trite conversations would bore the shit out of him.

He found himself wishing that Bronn had attended the wedding with Margaery. However, when he’d asked what was happening with the two of them, Bronn had insisted that it was purely casual sex and nothing more. Yet he’d been able to sense a tiny bit of jealousy as Bronn had been preparing him for the evening. It was clear to him that his friend was just as smitten with Margaery as Sandor was with Sansa, but it seemed he was too prideful to admit it. Sansa assured him the feelings were mutual, and he chuckled to himself as he wondered how long it would take the two of them to get over themselves.

Since they couldn’t get over themselves, though, he was all on his own at the reception, as Sansa had to sit at the head table as part of the wedding party. He watched her all night, and saw that she was watching him as well, giving him a little wave every so often. She’d promised him that once the formalities were done she’d come to sit with him, and that time couldn’t come soon enough. In the meantime, he’d enjoy the view, with Sansa looking stunning as always. The bridesmaid dress she wore was lilac, and complemented her skin in just the right way. Her hair was done up in some elaborate style, and he couldn’t wait until the end of the night when he could take it down for her, running his hands through the silky strands.

At that moment, the DJ tapped on the mic, and as the chatter died down, he announced, “It’s time for the beautiful couple to have their first dance as husband and wife! Mr. and Mrs. Hardying, please make your way to the dance floor!” Everyone clapped politely as the two of them walked hand-in-hand to the floor and eventually started slow dancing to some gods-awful love song that had probably been played at a dozen weddings this weekend alone.

“Having fun?” Sansa’s velvety voice asked in his ear suddenly, startling him. Apparently she’d taken time to slip away from the head table the moment she could.

He turned and pulled her in for a soft kiss before answering, “Now that you’re here.” Since there were no extra chairs at the table, Sandor guided her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her securely.

She sighed softly and rested her head on his as she watched the happy couple dancing. He wondered if she was jealous, seeing what could have been for her if she’d decided to stay with Harry. But then when the dance was over and she turned to smile at him, he found his doubts washed away as she said softly, “Dance with me.” Another slow song had come on, and more couples were filtering their way to the floor.

“I’m not really the dancing type…” Sandor said uneasily. His large frame and muscles didn’t exactly make him graceful.

“You also said you weren’t the wedding type, or the suit type, yet here you are at a wedding and in a suit,” Sansa said, giving him a stern look, adding, “Please dance. Just this one song.”

“All right,” he said, not wanting to disappoint her, “But just this one song. And just because you asked so nicely.”

She beamed at him, and hopped off his lap, grabbing his hand and leading him to the floor. His hands found her waist easily, pulling her close as she rested her head against his chest while they moved in slow circles to the beat of the song. He tried to ignore all the other couples who were giving the two of them odd looks, likely wondering why someone so beautiful was cozied up to him. Instead, he focused on the way Sansa felt in his arms, and how he could already picture them doing something similar in the future. Only she would be in a white dress, and they would be alone on the dance floor, moving in time to the beat of some gods-awful love song that had probably been played at a dozen weddings that weekend alone.

But that was in the future. For now, he would enjoy their relationship as it was, getting to discover all the different things there were to know about Sansa.

Sandor still couldn’t quite believe his luck that he’d met her at all. And all because Bronn had pushed him to go out that night. He would forever be grateful for that, and for himself actually being brave enough to hit on her. If he hadn’t plucked up the courage to talk to her, she would have walked out of that bar and out of his life forever. But now, she was here, hopefully to stay, if she would have him that is.

Yes, this was turning out to be the best thing that had ever happened to Sandor. And all thanks to one shot.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this one shot got a little out of hand! I originally intended for it to be maybe two scenes, one from Sandor's POV and one from Sansa's POV where he tries to flirt with her using a pick-up line while he's drunk. But instead my imagination ran away with me and here we are! Naturally it wound up being way more words than I had intended, but the more Sansan the better, right? 
> 
> Even though a part of me is tempted to make this a multi-chapter fic where I fill in some of the blanks, I think it's best to leave it as is. Plus, I have another story idea brewing, that I think is going to be a good one!
> 
> Thanks in advance to everyone who reads, comments on, and leaves kudos on this little ficlet! I appreciate the support as always!


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